if i lose it all i will take the fall
by Schwerelos
Summary: [ We /could/ have saved the world together, but now there's only me. ]


A/N: warning for (mild, not too graphic) violence and blood, and character death.

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><p>There was the constant sound of swords clashing against corpses, the constant rush that comes with these life or death situations, the constant fear of trying to stay alive stay alive, fight fight, keep fighting, keep swinging your sword, keep pushing them away.<p>

Keep trying to survive.

They were constantly surrounded by more and more Risen though and they knew—they knew it wouldn't take too long for them to be overwhelmed, even if neither of them wanted to think about it, even if neither of them was willing to give up.

Inigo looked behind him.

Owain looked positively feral, something he had never seen before. He had seen him at his best, at his worst, at his most panicked, most desperate, he thought he had seen it all but this—this took his breath away. It was scary to think, it was scary to _see_, Owain the one who would usually be grinning and making weird jokes and talking about heroic deeds so many, many years (centuries) ago, to see him like this, his hand gripping his sword as if it was his only lifeline—and it was, it was—growling and yelling and pushing and jumping and moving with such desperation and such ferocity that Inigo felt something tugging at his chest (at his heart). He couldn't quite put it into words, less of all in a moment like this, less of all when he had a dozen of Risen surrounding him and he really needed to focus on himself, on this, on fighting back, pushing back, not letting them gain any more quarter.

But every now and then he caught sight of Owain and it made something inside him hurt. Was it because of the situation they were in, was it because they were surely to die any moment soon, was it because Owain had almost sacrificed himself for his own sake, his and his friends? Surely it was all those things combined together. That and thinking that they had gotten to this point, that everything they had worked so hard for could come crumbling down any second, that the end of the world as they knew it drew nearer and nearer and here they were, trapped far away from where all they friends were, fighting for their lives, hoping, maybe even praying, that their comrades would be able to take the stones to Lucina safely.

Inigo slashed against one of the monsters, yelling, frustrated, angry, scared, so scared he felt he would freeze at any moment if he let the fear consume him, taking away arms and heads with every movement of his sword and it was never enough, it was never enough. They kept coming and he was feeling more and more tired and the voice at the back of his mind that told him to simply give up and give in to his fate kept getting stronger and stronger. He refused to listen, he refused to let it end this way, to let either of them die like this. They wouldn't, he wouldn't allow it, not after he had offered Owain to help fight them back, not after he told him together they could make a difference.

He wasn't giving up either his life or his friend's, he hadn't come this far for that.

He suddenly felt Owain's back against his, panting, almost out of breath. He tried to laugh, tried to say something light and slightly amusing, tried to pretend he wasn't shaking and gripping his weapon so hard his knuckles were white. Inigo tried to respond something light in turn, now sure how much he succeeded, attempted to laugh, pressing his back against Owain's for a moment, before launching himself against the new barricade of Risen that were suddenly on them, coming everywhere around them. Owain ran towards the opposite end, losing himself amidst the creatures and the only thing Inigo could hear for a moment (a long, exhausting, neverending moment) was the sound of his own sword against their bodies, ripping, cutting, their howls and growls numbing his own senses, his eyes seeing nothing but red, red, brown, black, blood, bodies, death.

The Risen caught him off guard for a moment, as he tried to regain his footing and his breath, slashed on his side and it was all Inigo could do to prevent losing his arm. He rolled against the dirt, tried to evade an axe that suddenly cut against where he had just been, tried to roll away from the oncoming arrows, tried to stand up but the ground was slippery and he was feeling weak, so weak and they were surrounding him and gods, no, he wasn't dying like this. He kept crawling away from the attacks that kept coming, one after the other and he had the vague impression of hearing someone yell his name and he couldn't be sure, couldn't see or hear or feel anything more than his own heart, beating against his chest, and the cold, cold, crawling against his spine and his hands and soaking his clothes and the Risen kept coming, chasing him, almost completely surrounding him and he wondered if staying behind had been worth anything at all if he was meeting his end like this.

He found himself against the corpse of a Risen, impeding his escape, felt and heard the others close to him, really close, already lifting their swords to end this, once and for all and Inigo didn't feel strong enough to even try to get away between their legs, try to get up and run, try to do something, anything at all. He closed his eyes for a moment, already imagining the swords and lances and axes ripping through his body when he heard it, someone yelling, weapons digging into someone's body, the thrilled snarls of the Risen as they caught their prey, a body falling in front of him, hitting the ground, falling on top of him.

He stayed still, not wanting to open his eyes just yet, not wanting to see what he feared (what he _knew_) has happened, not wanting to move to try and pretend that he was dead, collapsed, nothing but another body soiling the earth. Naga bless the Risen thought they had accomplished their goal and soon they started to walk away, slowly, painfully so, and it took Inigo a moment before he decided to even breathe again, remind himself that yes, he was still alive and open his eyes.

There was a body on top of him, except it wasn't really a body; it was barely breathing, barely moving.

It was Owain.

Inigo panicked immediately, tried to shake Owain awake, some part of him telling him that would make his wounds worse, another part of him telling him it was too late already so it wouldn't even matter. Inigo ignored everything as he kept yelling Owain, Owain, no! Why did you do this, Owain! But it was indeed too late, he could see, felt the blood flowing from his best friend's body, leaving it, tainting his hands, his clothes, and Inigo clutched his friend's body, crying, yelling, furious at him, at himself, demanding him, why why why, why would you do this, why Owain, why, why why.

Owain stirred very faintly, almost unnoticeable, and Inigo looked up, looked at him, his eyes covered in tears, his hands still holding him, as if by doing that he could made him stay.

"I'm—I'm sorry we couldn't both—both see this through the end", he coughed, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Shut up Owain, you're not leaving me—us. You can't do this, we promised! We would get through this together! You can't-!"

"It—It seems I have… ah—reached my heroic end."

"Don't do this Owain, don't you dare!"

"I am glad I got to spend my last moments with you, Inigo"

"Don't—Owain, don't—"

Owain didn't move again.

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><p>Inigo stayed like that, for how long he couldn't know, as he cried against his best friend's body, as he felt the rain hitting his back, the cold piercing his skin.<p>

When he finally gathered enough strength to get up, he picked up his friend, allowing himself to hold his hand in his for a moment, before burying him with his sword, still too shaken to say proper goodbye.

He tried to breathe again, telling himself he could break apart later, that there were things he needed to do now, people who were waiting for him. He needed to find the rest, made sure they were okay, made sure everything would go as planned, made sure they could save what was left of this world.

So he ran, trying to get away as soon as possible, trying to go by unnoticed, cold and hurt and utterly heartbroken, but willing to live, survive, even if it took everything he had.

He wasn't letting Owain's sacrifice be in vain.


End file.
